


i can hear the crack (of your bones and your love)

by lutes_and_dandelions



Category: Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: Angst, Eskel Is Apathic Towards His Own Wellbeing, Established Geraskier, Fluff, Happy Ending, Hurt/Comfort, It Gets Worse Before It Gets Better, Love Confessions, M/M, Oblivious Eskel, Threesome - M/M/M, accidental injury
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-22
Updated: 2020-09-22
Packaged: 2021-03-07 17:28:50
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,448
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26601409
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lutes_and_dandelions/pseuds/lutes_and_dandelions
Summary: Eskel wakes from a nightmare to find he’s injured Jaskier in his sleep. Unable to face what he’s done, Eskel sets off alone into Morhen Valley, his lovers and what he’d done never far from his mind.
Relationships: Eskel/Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, Eskel/Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion, Eskel/Jaskier | Dandelion, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion
Comments: 68
Kudos: 404





	i can hear the crack (of your bones and your love)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [some_stars](https://archiveofourown.org/users/some_stars/gifts).



> Happy Birthday Lovely! I hope you've had a fabulous day!
> 
> Thank you [KHansen](https://www.archiveofourown.org/users/KHansen/pseuds/KHansen) for the wonderful title!

The ghoul attacked, reaching out for Eskel with its rotting arms. His silver sword was lost, unable to dodge the blow Eskel reached out and caught the offending arm, squeezing hard until a resounding crack reached his ears. The ghoul howled in pain, and Eskel struck out, catching it’s ugly face and sending it careening backwards. 

“ _Eskel!_ ”

Another ghoul filled his vision, trying to grab him, pin him down so it could feast on his flesh. He tried to escape but couldn’t get out of the way in time.

“ _Eskel! Wake up!_ ”

It held him down and Eskel struggled but it’s arms had wrapped around him in a vice like grip. He couldn’t escape. 

“ _Eskel!_ You’re dreaming, please wake up!”

Eskel woke with a gasp. Eyes opening, Geralt’s face filling the space above him, replacing the ghoul. 

It was winter, he was in Kaer Morhen, he’d spent a night of pleasure with Geralt and Jaskier. It had been so good, Eskel always felt so wanted whenever the couple asked him to join them. And for one night he could pretend they loved him too, rather than only having eyes for each other. 

A whimper off to his left caught Eskel’s attention. He turned his head, bile rising in his throat as he stared at Jaskier, huddled on the cold stone floor, tears running down his cheeks as he held his right arm carefully to his chest, the left side of his face already darkening with a bruise. His dream, his _nightmare_ , it hadn’t been a ghoul at all. It had been _Jaskier_! 

Geralt let go of Eskel to join Jaskier on the floor, murmuring to him softly. Eskel couldn’t hear the words over the ringing in his ears. His stomach heaved and Eskel bolted from the bed, falling down on his knees over the chamber pot that lived in the corner of the room, and retched. It had been a long time since he’d last vomited, having a strong stomach was a requirement of being a witcher. Yet now Eskel’s body regurgitated his dinner like a green boy smelling their first drowner nest. 

When Eskel was able to look up, wiping at his streaming eyes and nose, it was to see Jaskier sat up in bed, frowning at Eskel while Geralt held his left hand and stared worriedly at his bard. Eskel’s stomach heaved again but it was empty, there was nothing left to come up. 

“I’m sorry,” he gasped, trying to beat back the sob that wanted to wrack his frame. _He’d hurt Jaskier_. 

“It’s alright, Eskel,” Jaskier gritted out, eyebrows drawn together against the pain. “You were having a nightmare, you di-”

He couldn’t bear it, couldn’t bear to listen to Jaskier try and make it sound like everything was okay. It wasn’t, and it would never be okay again. The small slice of happiness Eskel had been able to carve out for himself, to enjoy in winters, that made the rest of the year’s hardships somehow vaguely worth it, had been destroyed by his own hands. 

Clambering to his feet, Eskel mumbled, “I’ll go call Triss.” He stumbled out of the room, not caring he was still completely naked, he just needed to get _away_.

“Eskel, please come back!” Jaskier called after him. Eskel ignored the beseechment, letting a few choked off cries slip free as he half-walked, half-ran towards the room they kept their megascope. The cold bit into his skin, but Eskel ignored it, enduring the freezing castle hallways was the least of what he deserved for hurting Jaskier.

-oOo-

Triss portaled in immediately. Eskel directed her towards Geralt and Jaskier’s room but didn’t follow her. They wouldn’t want him there, and rather than having to deal with the sting of Geralt asking him to leave them, Eskel decided the easiest thing to do would be to not give Geralt the chance. Surely they’d prefer it this way too, he was saving them both the bother of having to let him down gently.

Eskel sat on his own bed, in his own cold room and rubbed methodically at his scars. He’d loved Geralt for so long he couldn’t remember what it was like to not love him, but he’d never done anything about it. Even before Diedre had mutilated his face, Eskel found the idea of Geralt returning his feelings impossible to consider but after, the idea became absolutely laughable, who could love a face like his? Ugly and disfigured. 

How Eskel had hated Jaskier the first winter Geralt had brought him to the keep. Bright and vibrant and beautiful and everything Eskel wasn’t. But by winter’s end he’d burrowed under Eskel’s skin and he could appreciate Geralt getting to be someone who loved him just as wholly and unconditionally as Eskel did. 

He’d been so shocked a light breeze could have blown him over when Jaskier and Geralt sat him down a few winters later and asked if he would like to occasionally join them in their bed. The opportunity to finally have Geralt the way he’d always dreamed, albeit with Jaskier involved, was something he refused to pass on. 

It had been just as amazing as he’d expected, yet also better than he ever could have imagined. And surprisingly, he’d found himself wanting Jaskier just as much as he wanted Geralt. The way Jaskier looked at him, as if he was something special, to be cherished, the way he’d worship Eskel’s scars like they made him beautiful rather than grotesque. It had made Eskel feel like he was worth something for the first time in a long time. Eskel was powerless against him, he’d never fallen so fast for anyone in this life, didn’t even know he could love someone so quickly. And so for years he’d loved them both quietly, unassumingly, never demanding anything, just taking what they both willingly gave him and tried not to want for more. 

A wave of grief washed through Eskel. Never again would he be allowed to sweetly kiss them both goodnight before falling asleep between them, or enjoy the way their three scents combined. Jaskier’s soft hands would never stroke up and down his back, he’d never feel Jaskier’s finger card through his hair again. If he’d known last night would be the last time he fell asleep staring in Geralt’s eyes, their legs tangled together, he would have savored it. Eskel appreciated all of the time he got to spend with them together, knowing it wouldn’t go on forever, but he’d thought he’d have warning, that’d he’d know the end date in advance so he could prepare. Instead it had been ripped from him and he wasn’t ready. Not that he ever would have been _ready_ but at least it would have been expected. 

Eskel stared at his hands. Whether his eyes were open or closed, Eskel could only see Jaskier’s pained, weeping face,, the image accompanied by the crack of his arm breaking. Dawn light started to peek through the windows and everything became too much. The cold light of day was upon him, but he wasn’t ready for the reality of facing his injured former lover. The walls of Eskel’s room seemed to press down on him. Realistically he knew the size of the room had not changed, but it felt like it was getting slowly smaller, suffocating him.

With clipped movements, Eskel pulled on clothes and armour. His boots were old and would leak water, his good pair were in Geralt and Jaskier’s room but he didn’t care. He’d just hurt someone he desperately loved, he would take wet feet. 

On the way to the kitchens he met Lambert, a mug of tea in hand on his way back upstairs. “Where the fuck are you going?” he asked, brows pulled together in a frown as his eyes assessed Eskel.

“Gonna check the harpy nest to the north hasn’t reestablished itself,” he grunted, pushing passed Lambert as the other witcher tried to step into his path. 

“Of course it fucking hasn’t, it’s the middle of winter! Eskel!” 

Eskel ignored him. Not wanting to listen to anything Lambert had to say. He wouldn’t understand. After shoving a few days worth of food into a pack, Eskel slung it over his back and headed towards the front doors. He wasn’t going to take Scorpion, the terrain was too treacherous and he _wanted_ to walk, wanted to feel his muscles ache after too long spent on his feet. 

As he reached the front doors, Geralt slid into the keeps atrium, drawing Eskel’s attention and skidding to a halt a few paces away. His eyes widened as they roved over Eskel, taking in the way he was dressed, filling with understanding. “What are you doing?” he asked, the slight downturn of his mouth giving away his distress. 

“Is Jaskier alright?” he asked, instead of answering. 

“Why don’t you come see for yourself,” Geralt suggested. His voice, gentle and coaxing, like he was speaking to a wounded animal, it rankled something inside of Eskel.

“He won’t want to see me,” Eskel replied, tone bitter.

“Yes, he does,” Geralt countered, “In fact, he’s worried you’re going to do something stupid.” 

“That ship’s sailed,” he snorted. “I just need to get away for a few days. I’ll be alright.”

“I know how you feel.”

Rage bubbled up hot and acrid underneath Eskel’s skin, he found himself shouting, “How can you?!” 

“You don’t think I’ve never hurt him accidentally?” Geralt frowned, tone calm in the face of Eskel’s ire as he took a step closer. Eskel tried to take a step back but hit the door. 

It surely wasn’t the same. Geralt had never _broken Jaskier’s arm_! Jaskier who made a living as a bard and required that arm to play his lute. What if it healed poorly? What if it healed fine but ached in the cold and prevented him from playing during the colder months, which was exactly when Jaskier and Geralt needed the extra coin. 

“I’ll be back in a few days,” Eskel said, hand on the doorknob. 

He watched Geralt take a halting step forward, hands moving in an aborted motion, as if he was going to reach out and touch Eskel, but instead, his hands fell back down to his sides. Eskel’s heart pounded in his chest, his eyes burned, words of apology and love tried to push their way free of Eskel’s mouth but he held them back. 

Frown deepening, Geralt gently cautioned, “Be careful.” 

With a parting nod, Eskel left, closing the door quietly behind him.

-oOo-

Lost in grief, Eskel wandered. All he wanted was to stop thinking, stop feeling, even if just for a moment, but he couldn’t. His thoughts spiraled endlessly around the fact that he’d hurt Jaskier. How could he claim to love Jaskier when he’d injured him so terribly? If Jaskier ever allowed Eskel in his presence again he was never going to be able to look him in the eye. He didn’t deserve the honour, wasn’t worthy of it.

For one mad moment as he trudged further up the valley, Eskel was gripped with the urge to cut off his hands. Even got so far as to stop and reach back for his steel sword before he shook himself and kept walking. 

He didn’t sleep, couldn’t let himself after the first night in the wilderness, his dreams plagued with images of himself hurting Jaskier in a hundred different ways, each one worse than the last. Continuously waking with the crack of Jaskier’s arm breaking resounding in his ears. So he fought the pull of slumber, continuing his journey or when his legs could no longer carry him forward, but staring into the fire or up at the stars. 

He came across no monsters, there was nothing to fight except himself. It was disappointing, the idea of sinking his silver sword into _something_ sounded pretty good. 

Three days after leaving the keep the terrain became too steep for Eskel to continue, he’d already climbed higher than he should have with no rope. During the entire journey, he’d not once turned back but now he was forced to. The view should have been breathtaking, Mohren Valley was laid out before him in all of it’s winter splendor but all he could see was Jaskier’s face, pulled in a pained grimace as he clutched his arm to his chest. 

Inhaling until his lungs felt ready to burst, Eskel screamed. 

His cry echoed around the valley. A few birds took to the wing. When the noise died down, Eskel screamed again. He screamed until he could scream no more. It left him feeling empty but the emptiness lacked the satisfaction of true catharsis. 

With a sigh, Eskel set out on the path back to Kaer Morhen. He only had a day’s worth of food left in his pack, but with some tight rationing Eskel was sure he could make it last two. Exhaustion pulled at him, frequently making him stumble. 

Eskel walked through the night, with no plans of stopping, the moon more than enough to light his way. Sometime during the night he rejoined the Gwenllech, frozen and glittering. He followed her, it was the easiest track back to the keep.

The thought of what was waiting for him upon his return made Eskel want to be sick all over again. If the pass wasn’t impassable, he'd have left for the south that morning, rather than trudging north. But he was stuck in the castle with Jaskier and Geralt until everything thawed. He would avoid them as best he could, just because they shared a home with him didn’t mean he had to subject them to seeing him. No, he wouldn’t put Jaskier through the ordeal of sitting at the breakfast table across from someone who’d physically harmed him. 

As the sun rose, Eskel was considering using the megascope to see if Triss would open a portal so he could leave Kaer Mohren before the pass opened up. He could be in Novigrad within a week, then Jaskier wouldn’t have to worry about seeing him at all. No, Jaskier and Geralt could spend the rest of the winter together, without the stress of being around Eskel. He could even go to Skellige.

Storm clouds to the west caught Eskel’s attention. Still continuing along his path, he kept a vigilant eye on them. Eskel let out a stream of curses when he noticed them creeping steadily closer to the valley. Tall and long, almost purple, they promised a malevolent blizzard. 

Kaer Mohren was too far away, there was no way he’d reach the keep before the snow began to fall. Climbing the valley wall, Eskel looked for a suitable cave to weather the storm. He snapped off a few branches for firewood along the way. The air temperature began to drop, Eskel’s breath puffing out in a large cloud in front of him while the cold nipped at his fingers. 

The first cave he found wasn’t very deep but it would do. The storm was far enough away he could have probably have found a deeper one, the valley walls were riddled with the things but he stayed where he was, even when an icy gust of wind blew through, ignoring the way his body shivered in its wake.

He ate a handful of nuts and jerky before starting a fire. It was weak but helped a little. Eskel was so tired but he continued to fight sleep. Time passed, snow began to fall, it became steadily colder. The wind picked up, outside the cave the snow began to blow sideways and it grew steadily darker despite being the middle of the day. A sharp gust blew the fire out, Eskel relit it. 

His head nodded to the side and he jerked awake, pinching himself. He would not fall asleep, falling asleep was dangerous. But it was cold and he was tired.

Eskel curled tightly in on himself to try and keep warm. He thought of Jaskier and Geralt, likely tucked up in bed, whiling away the time with a hot cup of tea each, maybe a book, or maybe just each other. The memory of the last storm he’d shared with them presented itself in his mind. They’d spent hours enjoying each other's bodies, giving and taking pleasure before curling up under the covers, just talking. Eskel had tried to leave but Jaskier wouldn’t let him, had wrapped himself around Eskel and demanded to have his hair played with. It had been so wonderfully normal. Thinking about the comfortable, casual intimacy he shared with them took his breath away. Intimacy he’d never experience again. 

Eskel jerked awake, noticed the fire had gone out and cast another Igni. The flames flickered weakly but did not extinguish. It was so cold and he was so tired.

He thought of Geralt. So caught up in his turmoil over Jaskier he hadn’t considered that he may also lose Geralt. Geralt who must surely hate him now. Jaskier was so precious to him and he’d been hurt by Eskel’s hands. There was no way they would be able to come through this with their friendship intact. 

Pain lanced through Eskel’s chest. It was one thing losing the sexual side of their relationship but to lose Geralt, lose the easy comradery and silent understanding they’d built over decades, the thought was like having his chest cracked open and his lungs shredded. 

The fire blew out for a third time. He tried to relight it but the flames wouldn’t catch. It was so very cold and he was so very tired. 

In his mind’s eye he was finally able to picture Jaskier smiling, Geralt next to him, his own lips tilted up slightly. They made such a striking pair, Eskel knew he was lucky to share them even if only for those few winters. The best winters of his life. 

The wind continued to blow into the cave but he didn’t feel it. Eskel was starting to feel less cold, but he was still so, so tired. He let his eyes fall shut, picturing Geralt and Jaskier in his mind, imagining what it would be like t

-oOo-

Eskel woke up.

He opened his eyes and was met with the sight of his bedroom ceiling. Frowning, he tried to recollect how he ended up in his own bed, naked, but the last thing he remembered was huddling in the cave, trying to wait out the storm. The storm was still going, if the sound of the wind and snow battering against the windows was anything to go by. His frown deepened as he registered it was night outside.

A snuffling noise to his left drew Eskel’s attention. He stared, dumbfounded at Jaskier. The bard was curled up in one of the chairs that usually sat in the library, dozing, his injured arm in the sling. His face wasn’t swollen but Eskel could still make out a yellowy green tinge around his left eye and cheek in the candlelight. He looked exhausted, face drawn, dark bags under his eyes, and despite knowing Jaskier for many years, Eskel was sure it was the first time he’d seen him with dirty hair. 

Eskel watched him for a while, his body so aching and drained he didn’t think he could have moved even if he wanted to. Instead he gazed at the slow rise and fall of Jaskier’s chest, trying not to think too deeply into the fact that Jaskier was wearing one of his white shirts. He traced the lines of Jaskier’s face with his eyes, still not understanding why he looked so ill, but memorising him nonetheless, just in case it was the last time. 

Jaskier began to stir, and Eskel didn’t look away. A part of him wanted to, he did not want to see the horror, disgust or fear that would fill Jaskier’s eyes when he looked at Eskel, but he couldn’t. Humming low in his throat, Jaskier sighed, face scrunching before it relaxed and he opened his eyes. 

They seemed to gaze into his very soul, soft and filled with palpable relief. Eskel couldn’t believe it, surely this was too good to be true? The corners of Eskel’s lips pulled up in the barest hint of a smile, and the relief was replaced with anger. Eyes turning hard, Jaskier said, voice so livid it quivered, “ _What were you thinking?_ ”

Resignation settled heavy in Eskel’s chest, and his eyes flickered down to stare at the sling, unable to look him in the eyes any longer. “I can’t apologise enough for hurting you, Jaskier,” he mumbled, clenching his fists under the covers. “I know it was inexcusable but I am sorry, although I understand if you can’t forgive me.” 

“What?” Jaskier frowned, following Eskel’s gaze down to his broken arm. “Eskel, I’m not talking about that. You didn’t mean to hurt me, you had a nightmare, you can’t control that. There’s nothing to forgive. I was talking about the fact that you _almost died of exposure!_ ” 

“The storm-” Eskel began.

“Don’t you ‘the storm’ me! Geralt said you hadn’t even tried to protect yourself. They found you in some shallow cave when there were much deeper ones near it. You didn’t even bother to try and cover the entrance and had collected a pitiful amount of firewood! What the fuck, Eskel?! Is life so-” he broke off, and to Eskel’s horror he saw Jaskier’s eyes begin to water. After taking a deep breath he continued, “Is life so meaningless to you? Do Geralt and I mean nothing? Lambert? Vesemir?”

“I’d hurt you,” he whispered, turning his head to stare up at the ceiling. He felt too exposed, he didn’t like to think what Jaskier would see if he stared into his eyes.. 

“But it was an accident,” Jaskier’s voice was shaking badly, “Eskel, darling please, please look at me.” 

Eskel refused, continued to stare up at the ceiling. It was so hard to deny Jaskier anything, but somehow he managed. Fear over what he would see keeping him in place. He felt like a coward but considering he’d physically hurt his lover, coward was hardly the worst thing he could call himself. 

He heard Jaskier moving, then the bed dipped and he closed his eyes. Soft fingers turned his head and stroked at his cheek. “Please Kelly,” he whispered. And Eskel was powerless to deny that. With great reluctance he opened his eyes.

Jaskier was lying on the bed next to him, turned slightly onto his side and into Eskel, although he left an inch of space between them. His face was wet with silent tears. Would Eskel ever stop hurting him? 

“Thank you,” Jaskier sighed, cupping Eskel’s jaw and staring intently into his eyes. The anger was gone, Eskel wasn’t sure what emotion had replaced it. “Now, Eskel, I want you to listen to me. Whatever you are trying to do to yourself as penance for hurting me, has to stop. I forgive you and I do not blame you for anything. Do you understand?” 

“But how? How can you even stand to touch me? Why aren’t you scared?”

“Because I-” he cut himself off, removing his hand from Eskel’s jaw to wipe over his own face. “I need to go and get Geralt. You _will_ still be here when I come back.” Eskel nodded and Jaskier’s expression softened, “Would you like anything? Tea? Soup?”

Eskel was going to answer with nothing but then his stomach growled so loud even Jaskier heard it, raising an eyebrow at him in expectation as the sound diminished. “Tea and soup, please.” 

“I’ll be right back,” Jaskier murmured. He climbed carefully off the bed, dropped a kiss to Eskel’s forehead and was out the room in a flash, only stopping momentarily in the door for a brief look back. 

The urge to run reared its ugly head, under the covers his legs twitched. Eskel was glad he was too tired to move. He looked around his room again, still confused as to how he’d gotten there. From Jaskier’s beratement he knew Geralt and Lambert had retrieved him from the cave but he didn’t understand how they’d known to find him there in the first place. The storm would have wiped away any trace of his scent or tracks and he'd still been two days walk from Kaer Morhen when it hit. Plus, the blizzard was still raging outside of his window so how had they gotten him back so quickly? 

Eskel inhaled deeply and was hit with a noseful of Jaskier’s subtle scent. Unbidden, tears sprang to Eskel’s eyes. Jaskier still wanted to be near him, still felt comfortable enough to touch him, to lay next to him, to care for him. It was far more than he expected. A small sob escaped his chest as everything overwhelmed him all at once. He’d almost died, by his own doing, because he felt so badly about hurting Jaskier but Jaskier didn’t care that Eskel had hurt him, forgave him for it as easy as breathing, and had been upset that Eskel had been purposefully hurting himself as punishment. 

When Jaskier returned, Geralt in tow carrying a tray of food, Eskel was openly crying. 

“Oh Kelly,” he heard Jaskier sigh. 

“I’m sorry,” he sobbed, voice cracking as his chest hitched. 

Jaskier climbed under the covers, wrapping his good arm around Eskel’s waist, pulling him onto his side and tucking Eskel’s head in his neck. Careful of Jaskier’s broken arm, Eskel pressed himself as close as possible. 

He was vaguely aware of Geralt putting down the tray and then the bed dipped behind him and Geralt’s cool hands wrapped around his waist from behind. Eskel felt his forehead press between his shoulder blades. 

Why in Melitele’s name had he tried to leave _this_?!

He apologised again, and again, his tears soaking into Jaskier’s shirt. Geralt and Jaskier held him through it, stroking his hair, clutching him tighter whenever a fresh wave of sobs hit. As it calmed down to a sniffle, Eskel rolled onto his back, barking a laugh when Geralt grumbled about having to shuffle backwards. He lay in the middle, both of his lovers arranging themselves until they were using his chest as a pillow. 

“I broke Jaskier’s nose once,” Geralt said with preamble. 

Eskel stared at him, shocked, before saying, “I didn’t know.”

“It hurt like a mother fucker,” Jaskier sighed, nuzzling into Eskel’s chest, his uninjured hand stroking circles on his stomach. “He was having a nightmare, jerked in his sleep and headbutted me. How long did it take me to convince you to share a bed with me again, dear?”

“Two months?” 

“It felt like _forever_. Two months without sex, Eskel, absolutely horrendous. Fuck the broken nose, I should have left him for that,” he joked, winking up at Eskel.

“It’s not funny,” he grumbled.

“It’s a little funny,” Jaskier argued. “Better to see the humorous side then to lose yourself in despair.” 

Eskel stayed silent. 

“Promise me,” Geralt said, tone hot, drawing Eskel’s gaze to him, “that you’ll _never_ do something like that again. I thought I was doing the right thing by letting you leave, that you just needed a little time to process things but then when we found you, I- Just...don’t do it again. I can’t lose you.”

“I won’t,” he swallowed, lifting a hand to thread his fingers into Geralt’s hair. It was so soft, had always been, even before it went white. “I promise.” He was struggling to believe just how much he’d put them through but it was undeniable. “How did you find me?” 

“Called Triss back,” Geralt answered, pushing his head into Eskel’s hand. “She cast a tracking spell and then opened a portal for me and Lambert.”

“I’ll have to send her some flowers.”

“She’d like that.”

It was quiet except for the sounds of the storm while Eskel steeled himself to ask about the thing he’d almost killed himself to avoid. “Jaskier, how’s your arm?”

“Honestly, it’s fine,” Jaskier said, voice gentle, as his fingers continued to trace patterns on Eskel’s belly. “I’ve been taking celandine for the pain and Triss excelled the healing so I’ve only got to keep it in the sling for another two weeks rather than two months.”

“That’s good, great even. I’m- I’m glad.” He wanted to press into Jaskier’s space, kiss him, but it still felt wrong. Jaskier forgave him, Eskel didn’t really feel like he should be forgiven but he wasn’t going to take that choice away from Jaskier. 

He still didn’t understand why though. 

Eskel was about to ask when his stomach rumbled again, just as loud as before. Jaskier laughed, rolling off his chest. Without a word Geralt helped Eskel to sit up and shuffle back to lean back against the headboard, before retrieving the tray. 

After a quick Igni to reheat the meal, he helped Eskel raise the bowl of leek and parsnip soup to his lips. It tasted nice, he emptied the bowl in less than a minute and then knocked back his cup of reheated tea. Geralt helped him back down and Eskel was immediately hit by a wave of exhaustion, his jaw cracking as it stretched in a yawn.

“You should sleep,” Jaskier murmured, helping Eskel turn onto his side, a moment later he felt Jaskier’s legs tangle with his, and his stomach press to Eskel’s lower back, one arm wrapping around his middle. 

“What if I hurt you again?” Eskel asked, worry pooling low in his gut.

“How about I go in the middle,” Geralt suggested, from Eskel’s other side. 

Eskel nodded, some of the anxiety easing, although pulling himself from Jaskier’s hold felt like removing a limb. Geralt settled down between them and they ended up mimicking their earlier position, except this time it was Eskel and Jaskier using Geralt as a pillow. He fought sleep still, this time for a different reason. “I still don’t understand,” he murmured staring into Jaskier’s eyes, “why do you still want to do this?”

Jaskier and Geralt had a silent conversation using nothing but their eyebrows. Then they turned to him. Over Geralt’s chest, Jaskier took his hand, threading their fingers together, Geralt placed one of his hands over theirs and then somehow managed to thread his fingers into the mix too. 

Eskel stared at their three hands, the way they were joined. He took in his own thick fingers, and the way they were curled around Jaskier’s, long and lute callused, and Geralt’s, pale and strong. They were so different yet they seemed to fit together so perfectly. 

“It’s because-” Jaskier said, voice soft, hesitant. Eskel looked up into those blue eyes. “It’s because I- We, are in love with you, Eskel.”

“What?” Surely that couldn’t be correct.

“It’s true,” Geralt smiled. He smiled so rarely, it still took Eskel’s breath away. “He felt so bad about falling for you that I thought he was going to leave me, he was acting so weird.” 

“And after I finally admitted it, after beating myself up for weeks, he turned round,” Jaskier said, continuing what Geralt had started, “and said, ‘that’s fine, I’ve been in love with him longer than you’ve been alive’. Can you believe it? Little git.”

“ _What?!_ ”

“We were working up to telling you but we worried we’d scare you off,” Jaskier shrugged, squeezing his fingers. “However given recent events, I thought it best you know. If you don’t love us back like that, that’s fine. If you don’t want us to keep having sex now that you know that’s also ok-”

“I love you both too,” Eskel blurted, interrupting Jaskier. “So, so much.”

Jaskier seemed to smile with his entire face, surging across Geralt’s chest to press frantic kisses to Eskel’s lips. Eskel kissed him back desperately, heart pounding. He didn’t know what he’d done to deserve the love of both of them but in that moment he refused to question it. Jaskier pulled back and Geralt took his place, holding Eskel’s chin as he kissed him so tenderly it made Eskel’s chest ache. 

Unable to stop it, Eskel yawned in Geralt’s face. Geralt huffed but Jaskier chuckled, low in his throat before saying, “Go to sleep, love. We’ll still be here when you wake up.” 

“Say it again?” he asked, voice barely loud enough to hear as he settled back down against Geralt’s chest, eyes fluttering shut.

“We love you,” Jaskier whispered.

“Again.”

This time Geralt answered, voice barely a rumble, “We love you.”

Eskel smiled, and let himself drift.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you very much for reading! I hope you enjoyed it! :D 
> 
> [My Tumblr!](https://lutes-and-dandelions.tumblr.com/)


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